


Crucifixion

by LokianaWinchester



Series: Jesus Christ Superstar [17]
Category: Jesus Christ Superstar - All Media Types
Genre: I am so sorry, I hate it, This is a horrible fanfiction, don't read it, so much pain and suffering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 09:40:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14767146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokianaWinchester/pseuds/LokianaWinchester
Summary: Literally Crucifixion.





	Crucifixion

I have failed him. I wish I could go back and say sorry. But I cannot. He is gone now and I will never be able to tell him.

I wish I could. He deserves it. He deserves to know that I never meant to harm him, I never meant to leave him. But I did. I had to. Now he is dead and all chances of me telling him, that I had no say in this, are gone.

I love him.

I loved him.

I think he loved me too. He has never said so, but I felt it anyway. He was unlike any other of my followers. Always on the watch-out for trouble, and when it finally came, he still was not ready. He was unable to resist the path that was laid out for him and I do not blame him. I just wish, it did not have to be this way.

I am a mess. A broken mess. Everything hurts. I wish I could be as eloquent about it as I usually am, but the pain goes beyond words. My torso is burning, the pain dulling, then swelling up to new heights every few seconds, every time I move the slightest bit, I feel the wounds ripping open again and the pain shoots through me so that I nearly lose consciousness. I can still feel the sharp, cold metal ripping at my skin, the cracks of leather in the air before the next blow is landed and even though I try to keep still, I squirm, I move and it sends shocks of pain through me, worse than I could ever have imagined. My legs are weak. There is no strength in my limbs. My head is beginning to droop every now and then, but it becomes difficult to breathe, so I try and keep it upright. The nails that they ran through my hands and ankles, they feel cold. After hours of being buried in my flesh, they still feel cold.

Almost all my weight hangs on my wrists, my hands. I cannot even feel them anymore, just a mass of pain at the end of my arms. When I try to shift my weight, blood will trickle from the wounds on my back.

I think of all the poor souls, they did this to. I think of all the so-called criminals that they crucified. I think of the innocent people and their misery. I have a goal. A light at the end of the tunnel. I know I would not be here without God. Why would I be? I still do not know why he is doing this to me, but I know that he is and that he has a reason. It is terrifying to know that he holds this much power over me but at the same time it is comforting to know he is there. He _is_ the light. He must be.

Judas would not have betrayed me had his path, his destiny not been fixed. Had there been any way past it, Judas would have chosen it. I miss him already. A tear slips from my eye and I hear the people, a dull sound, distant, even though they are only meters away from me. They are laughing at my pain and it is upsetting, but I do not have the power to show my anger anymore. I am thirsty. The sun is burning down on my skin, down on my head and I am dizzy, I am burning up from the inside and the outside. The pain clouds my mind and it is not only the excruciating bodily pain, it is also the pain, the mourning for the man I love above all else, even though I should not. I should not have fallen for him and yet I could not stop myself. The pulsating, throbbing cuts in my back are protesting in hot thumps as a sob wracks my body. I will it down.

For a moment I see my mother in the crowd. She is weeping.

I will never get to tell her I am sorry, just like with Judas. She is coming closer and I close my eyes, not wanting to see her suffering.

I cannot take the pain, I cannot take the agony that comes even from indulging in my suffering. Nothing can save me, the weakness that is overcoming me stems from the wounds on my back, from the beatings I received. Breathing is getting harder; my ribs are hurting, every breath like a dagger through my lungs, every breath takes more effort, keeping my head straight to simply keep breathing is becoming more and more difficult. The glaring heat is not helping. It sets my body on fire, it makes me burn up and I am still thirsty.

I must have said something, because there is a dim reaction from the crowd.

Why is this being done to me? What is so special about me that I have to endure this? What is so special about me that I am being punished for so many sins?

Maybe the answer is nothing. Maybe nothing is special about me, maybe I am just another criminal. In their eyes I certainly am.

I do not want to be. I just want to comfort my mother.

I want to hold Judas. My mind always seems to be coming back to him.

It is painful to even think. I feel like I am burning up. My head is heavy, so heavy and my lips are splitting up from the heat. I run my tongue over them, but it barely helps.

I taste blood.

I think back to when I tasted Judas on them. The hours that have passed since then feel like an eternity – like a lifetime had passed.

He kissed me back.

I leaned in and he responded like I would have if he had made the move. I felt in this kiss, how he yearned for me.

Another sob shakes through me. It is painful, so painful. I open my eyes a bit. I must be hallucinating, because Judas is there and he is crying. He looks good. It almost seems as if he is glowing. I close my eyes again and darkness is all around me for a second, I am free of everything, but the keening screams of the crowd, too loud, to shrill, wake me again.

I am still living; I am still dying, the open wounds on my back rubbing against the coarse material of the cross. In a final show of strength from somewhere deep within me, strength that surfaces at the absolute injustice of the situation, I cry out. I shout at God and I hope he knows it.

“Why have you forgotten me?”

He surely has. Showing me Judas, suffering even after death was too cruel for God to willingly allow it.

There is light, similar to the one that was shining around Judas.

I want to close my eyes, but they are already sealed shut. The light grows stronger. I cannot will it away. It comes towards me, envelops me until I become one with it.

I utter words. Final words.

“It is finished.” Whatever it is, it is over. It is finished. Because I am finished.

“Father.” Vaguely I wonder at my own words. “Into your hands, I commend my spirit.”

My pain fades into the light until –

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry. As an apology I offer a half-finished last sentence. Insert whatever you would like to read there.
> 
> I realise the lyrics are not in the completely right order but I only noticed it once I was done.
> 
> Thank you for sharing my pain.


End file.
